


Little Sheep

by aristos_asphodels



Series: Jesse/Dante Mini Fic Series [1]
Category: Fence - C.S. Pacat
Genre: First Kiss, First Meetings, M/M, Pre-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, its just weed, written before comic was released
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 05:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12624084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aristos_asphodels/pseuds/aristos_asphodels
Summary: Jesse meets Dante during freshman year at a party.





	Little Sheep

**Author's Note:**

> A/N BEFORE READING: lmaoo heyyyyy ya’ll im trash also slow burn who??? Dont kno her. I was actually going to do a lot more but im like “uuuuhhh Layla thats great and all but it’s probs all gonna be ooc once fence is out dont do that to yourself.” I’m not the best writer so i’m really sorry about that, and I’ve only been reading textbooks and facts so it was a bit difficult for me to make creative imagery~ and all that shit. Also my tenses my switch or read akwardly, pls forgive dkjsdksk im trying to get better at tenses and shit. UUUHHHH this is probably ABSOLUTELY OOC but I tried really hard to work with the little information I had on the characters. This takes place at the beginning of Jesse’s freshman year (he’s a sophomore in Fence). I like to hc atm that Jesse is constantly “oh gosh we shouldn’t” but continues to love on Dante and Dante is be driven mad with love (but in his own chill way, like the champ he is). Special thanks to C.S. Pacat and Johanna the Mad who designed the characters this fic is based off of. Here’s a playlist I made for Jesse/Dante: https://open.spotify.com/user/layla.rhibug/playlist/6YsKxorGTR7jIuoTrmyWsi  
> (sorry I dont kno how to make links lmaoo rip) Enjoy <3

  


Deafening music of pop remixes resounded throughout the entire house. Examining the contents of diluted beer in his red solo cup, pee-colored liquor began pouring down into some fancy fern that Jesse cared little about. Kicking behind himself after the dumping the alcohol, the fern went knocking over into the garden area; shattering the clay plot along with wrecking some other fancy flowers.

Jesse’s eyes went trailing down towards his white adidas, checking for any dirt he may have spilt on them, but they were clean. He expected as much; Jesse is quite agile. All legs. And through fencing he learned how to manipulate his body to his exact desired motion with little fuss.

He isn’t particularly fond of partying or the people he hangs around. Unfortunately, as a freshman in the first month of school, following in after his family’s footsteps, accompanying the most prominent peers of his grade is one of those informal societal expectations. That unspoken rule of socializing with the same families his family socialized with.

It is all an extensive bore to Jesse. There’s this great detachment both at school and home that Jesse experiences yearly, monthly, daily, _hourly_ . His only relief from this: Fencing. And it’s not because his family never did it, they did. But he was determined to be the _best_ fencer Exton Academy had seen. That was where Jesse was going to be different: practice would be hours long and Jesse continued his practice for hours more in the courtyard until a teacher or some obnoxious security guard forced him to his dorm. But Jesse always woke early, before the sunrise, rehearsing his lunges and ripostes.

Where his father had failed he would excel. Where his father excelled he was absolutely determined to transcend.

His father held an Olympic victory. Which Jesse was reminded of constantly and that _he_ never failed. Therefore, Jesse ‘has absolutely no excuse to fail when he’s given all the tools and more.’

Of course this may have inadvertently caused Jesse to have a lack in patience (Maybe even his suffocating perfectionist mindset too); if his prise de fer wasn’t perfect the first day, then it would be the day after (and he would be exhausted, forcibly by his own jurisdiction; Sneaking out of his dorm with little to no sleep as he trained until his feet had bled from practicing. Practicing. Practicing).

Wandering around hiding at a party wasn’t going to help him achieve his goal. He needed to become captain next year. He needed to stay focused and train every moment he received. Jesse felt his own feet begin to move in a swift parry; inconspicuously training alone in the gardens, hidden from the rest of the party-going teenagers.

Several minutes went passing. Then, during a fleeting liement performed with an air blade, Jesse’s felt his heart halt; gripping his hand suddenly at his chest he let out a theatrical huff.

Sitting on some stone fountain was Dante Rossi, lighting a cigarette in a coolly lethargic motion. His chocolate curls brushing against his long eyelashes as he looked up at the moon, smoke emitting out his nostrils and mouth. His dark eyes flickered onto Jesse. Their gazes focusing on each other; Jesse’s entire mind absorbed those tired brown eyes. He felt his body shiver as Dante’s eyes were shimmering gold in the moonlight. Even if only for a moment, but Jesse swore as the moon was radiating illuminating over the garden that the aura around Dante became sickeningly divine.

Jesse was soaking Dante up; along with his shredded Levi jeans, casual tana and brown flannel tied around his waist, his loose transparent v-neck… revealing he _may_ or _may not be_ quite muscular. His espresso skin appeared almost flawless except for some little craters scattered throughout his skin; soft against palm, yet tough. He was grunge _and_ beauty.

Not that any of it mattered. Jesse shook his head and slicked back his champagne blond hair. Straightening himself, he strided over -all the while hearing Dante mumble ‘go away’ repeatedly- snubbing his nose upwards as he stood directly in front of Dante, who quieted his grievances. Jesse’s shadow cascading over the other while Dante’s eyes were purely apathetic as he beheld Jesse. Dante’s eyes: lazy as his head tilted upwards. He took in a deep puff and blew towards Jesse.

It was then that Jesse understood that it was no cigarette that Dante Rossi was holding.

“ _Pot,_ ” Jesse snarled.

“Honestly, with the way you were fighting the air over there, I think you could use a hit, babe,” Dante replied in his all callously glorious ‘I don’t care about anything or anyone’ attitude.

“I should ‘hit’ you,” Jesse barked.

“Nice comeback, dollface. Think of that one yourself?”

Jesse never had the, well, ‘pleasure’ is not the correct word more like ‘experience’ of meeting Dante Rossi before. Dante attended King’s Row -the rivaling school of Exton- he was also a Sophomore making him a class grade above Jesse. Jesse knew from the rumours that he was a grungy bastard who had no intelligence to him whatsoever. The only reason he got into King’s Row was because of his family’s money. His only charming aspects are his face (which Jesse was continually taking subconscious notes of; like how he has a few small moles prettily distributed athwart his face) and that he knew everybody; or everybody knew him.  

Of course all these rumours came from the very social group of affluent sophomores that Jesse is expected to associate with. The very kids whom Jesse despised. He’s also supposed to despise anyone from King’s Row and he should definitely be despising Dante who is smoking pot and blowing it in his face. Jesse should have great disdain for Dante’s face with his delicate craters in his skin from possible adolescent acne that at the same time doesn’t take away any of his beauty (It might actually be making him more pretty). And He should abhor Dante does look grungy, but in a clean way. A good-smelling way. His cologne is thick like the pot as Jesse inhales both into his senses and Jesse can’t help thinking how _powerful_ Dante smells.

He’s becoming distracted.

“Dante Rossi I will call the police for minor in possession of pot and attempting to solicit said pot if you don’t leave immediately,” Jesse said haughtily. Dante took another puff as he slowly stood up. Once standing he took maybe half an inch forward and their chests were nearly bumping. Jesse was now the one being forced to gaze up; Dante has quite a few inches on him. Becoming flustered Jesse glared down, putting his wrist lightly against Dante to make sure he kept himself at length.

“Oh that’s nice,” Dante said after he blew out the smoke (he had turned his head away when he did, it moved away with the wind and avoided Jesse’s face entirely). “Call the cops to come arrest a single guy at a mansion with a bunch of drunk teenagers who are also high off worse shit. That’ll make you popular.”

Jesse’s brows furrowed in annoyance. His head tilting up to show his dominance, but Dante was unaffected.

“You’re from King’s Row. You’re not supposed to be here,” Jesse claimed.

“Who says,” Dante asked.

“Everyone,” Jesse answered.

At this a single brow of Dante’s went raising up, “everyone in the entire world has said that ‘Dante Rossi is not allowed to attend this _exact_ high school party?’”

“No… what… no, not the entire world,” Jesse was stuttering out. He felt as if his words were being manipulated, but he quickly began stomping down that thought as he remembered that Dante wasn’t smart. “You’re an idiot.”

Dante’s face grew a tight lipped smile at Jesse’s words. “So everyone says I’m not supposed to be here, but not everyone says I’m not supposed to be here meaning that everyone is also not saying that I’m not _not_ supposed to be here. So what it sounds like that you’re telling me is that I’m here because everyone says I’m not supposed to be here, but meant I am _not_ not supposed to be here.”

Jesse’s mouth hung open trying to comprehend all of what Dante was saying. He spoke too quickly and eloquently.

“Do I have what you’re saying correct, babe,” Dante asked with a now shit-splitting grin as he soaked up Jesse’s face.

“That you’re supposed to be here,” Jesse sputtered out.

“I am, exactly. Cool, thanks taking that stick out of your ass and agreeing with the rest of the world,” Dante said.

“No, that’s absolutely not what I am agreeing to,” Jesse whined.

“Look, tiny child,” Dante began.

“I’m nearly six foot-”

“Shut up for a second,” Dante interrupted.

Jesse gave a loud huff in response. Never had he ever been spoken to in such a manner. It was completely inappropriate especially since he was in Exton territory. “No, you are absolutely-” but the attempt at stopping Dante was a worthless attempt.

Dante’s hand placed itself over Jesse’s mouth. “As I was saying: I’m here for reasons. Now, I just wanted to take a break by myself then head back to my dorm. It’s not a big deal. Don’t be like a little bitch about it.”

“It is a big deal,” Jesse stated. “Our schools have a rivalry between sports -especially the fencing teams - and don’t roll your eyes. There’s an unspoken rule that anyone from Exton should never associate with King’s Row.”

“Because of fencing,” Dante questioned apathetically. Jesse could only gawk at Dante for being so stupid. How could he possibly not understand the social norms between the schools? He was a sophomore so Dante should know all the ques better than the back of his hand. Jesse being only a freshman already knew all this. Jesse ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

“So, do you always follow like a sheep,” Dante inquired.

“Excuse me?” It was Jesse’s turn for his brows to go up in curious surprise. Dante did not answer for awhile. Instead he went walking deeper into the garden. Jesse scrutinizing him as he did so. Laying down Dante just gazed up at the sky, supporting his head with his left arm, inhaling more pot, the smoke blowing out gradually.

When he finally did answer, his voice was soft. “Freshman, right? Yeah,” he spoke and nodded to himself. “In middle school you probably wandered around the mall where you would follow around your posse with anguish written all over you fucking face. Now, you were practicing fencing so you’re part of the most popular and most fucking stupid sport there is. The main reason you’re even in that sport is because of its popularity and pressure from family I’m guessing. You don’t fight it either. The pressure I mean. In fact you force yourself to succeed in it to please someone who isn’t yourself.”

“I love fencing. It’s my life.” Jesse felt as if he was choking. Sounded it, too. He needed to shut him up. He didn’t know anything about his life -didn’t even know his name! All the pressure his father put was his choice. He allowed the demands and harshness of his father because he needed it to do better.

Dante heard the tone of Jesse’s voice he sat up using his palms as leverage, sighing with a tilt of his head as he glanced over at Jesse.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry. If you love a dumb sport like fencing then you probably do,” Dante’s curls were looking perfectly wild. Jesse never let his hair be so crazy.

Jesse’s feet went shuffling over to Dante. He stood next to him but didn’t sit. Dante’s eyes were acknowledging Jesse, but he was not offering the spot next to him. Jesse would wait till he did,  but continually the two just kept making awkward eye contact. Dante didn’t seem to understand the problem.

Jesse finally using his hand gestured towards the ground and bobbled his head a bit; trying to help Dante get the picture.

Dante only let out a great sigh. “Oh you’re whipped, little sheep,” his voice kind, the nickname however wasn’t meant to be taken as a compliment. “You’re free to sit.” So Jesse sat, criss-crossed with a straight back.

“I don’t deserve to be called a ‘sheep’ because I believe in manners and proper etiquette,” Jesse said, but Dante laughed and Jesse couldn’t figure out why it was funny. It’s absolutely irritating to him. Especially when Jesse payed closer attention to Dante as his laughter died down and he chuckled against his rolled dope. His lips were fairly thick, but not overwhelmingly so. They were also soft; not dry. Dante must constantly apply lip balm.

What kind of lip balm, Jesse wondered. Vanilla or cherry? No. That’s too ordinary for Dante and he hates being ordinary. Something crazier. What’s crazier? Orange-pomegranate-blueberry mix? Or probably something weird and grungy like alcohol flavoured. Orangy-alcohol lip balm because Dante was the type who absolutely couldn’t be like anyone else or else he’d die. 

“You had to ask for my permission to sit on the ground outside at a house that isn’t even mine,” Dante replied, still chuckling. And then laughing a bit harder. It seemed the more Dante thought of it, the funnier it became.

His laugh was like warm honey; it was so contagious. Jesse wanted that laugh dripped all over himself.

“Well,” Jesse explained through fluttering laughter, “it’s just how I was raised.”

“Well, your nannies raised you wrong. Next time raise yourself,” Dante said as he laid back down on the grass, resuming his previous position.

“Is that what you had to do,” Jesse whispered. 

Then Dante was silent. His eyes were back to that narrowed-apathetic look again. Jesse sat straighter, leaning a bit more over Dante, trying to catch his eyes. Get him to look over and answer; to not ignore him. He succeeded in catching Dante’s eyes - which flickered over for a brief second.

Dante’s eyes were then examining Jesse all over, moving to lay on his side facing Jesse. Dante’s elbow held up his head and torso. He was so casually laid out; body relaxed while the pot continued burning in his right hand, which was resting on his own thigh. The staring provoked Jesse to shift around; tense all over, wiggling around in an endeavor to sit in a more precise way.

Dante gave Jesse a soft grin, “What’s your name,” he asked, taking a drag afterwards.

“Jesse. Jesse Coste,” Jesse stammered out, clicking his tongue at himself in frustration 

“Alright Jesse Coste the ‘little sheep,’ I’ll tell you a deep secret about myself that no one else knows if you do something for me,” Dante offered. 

Jesse shouldn’t have be interested. There is nothing interesting in gossip and there definitely isn’t anything interesting about Dante Rossi. 

Except that everyone in the world is interested in Dante Rossi.

And it was rare that Jesse had his own secrets. Or a secret between him and someone else. It felt exhilarating at the idea of knowing something no one else does. Especially a Dante secret, because it was also rumoured that Dante had no secrets. What you saw was what you got; he was essentially a complete open book who cared little for other’s judgment.

To have such a meaningful secret; a secret that no one else in the world holds in possession meant he was one less brick-in-the-wall (not that he thought of himself as one, this simply would prove Dante wrong).  

“Okay,” Jesse said, not comprehending why he felt the need to have such a hushed tone when they were all alone.

“Do something crazy or wild or carefree. Nothing dangerous of course, I wouldn't ask that of you. Just break out of your comfort zone. Right now in this moment. Do something to break the boundaries that everyone built around you. Like, take a drag,” he said offering out the pot, “and I’ll tell you my secret.”

Jesse’s went doe-eyed. There was no hiding the tremble of his body at the idea of drugs when he was already comprehensively out of his comfort zone: sitting on his knees in the grass, at a party, alone in a dimly lit garden, sharing secrets with the notorious _Dante Rossi_. His heart going rapid in his chest. His father would kill him. He reached out to grab the joint. His father wasn’t around to restrict.

Jesse didn’t want to be known as ‘little sheep’ to someone like Dante. It’s not fair. Glancing over, Jesse considered the orangey-alcohol chapstick on Dante’s lips.

Dante told Jesse to smoke. How is that different from anything else he’s ever done? What does he mean by crazy if ‘crazy’ in itself is subjective? To Jesse the craziest person in the whole goddamn world must be Dante and his callous, listless eyes, and warm honey laugh.The world felt empty and quiet. He couldn’t taste anything. He wanted to taste and to feel. Jesse in the moment desired the most extreme of anything he could grasp. Did love taste extreme? Did Dante taste like love?

Without warning Jesse threw his body down on top of Dante, smashing their lips together. Dante went stock-still for a moment, eyes wide, but he let it happen. Allowed his eyes to close, resting one hand in Jesse’s hair while the other held the pot away, not wanting Jesse to get burned.

The kiss: strange and inexperienced for Jesse. Dante’s lips were so goddamn soft. He was kissing Jesse unbelievable tender. The kiss being so delicate there were no loud smacks, but Dante’s breathing was quickening, becoming heavier. Jesse’s hands went tangling in Dante’s untamed curls, crushing his lips more into the other’s causing Dante to moan faintly. They needed more, becoming desiderate for each other’s skin.

Jesse grabbed at the pot and put it out in the ground. Dante gave no protest, merely watched it happen and observe Jesse toss away his weed with blown pupils. Jesse pushed against Dante’s shoulders, forcing him to lie flat on the grass. His legs moved to straddle each side of Dante’s hips and Jesse ran his hands down the other’s torso, stopping at the top of the denim blue jeans. Dante’s hand shot up to pull Jesse back into him and against his lips. Dante wrapped his arms around Jesse’s upper body as Jesse entwined his fingers back into thick curls.

Dante’s tongue ran along Jesse’s bottom lip causing Jesse to open his mouth partially. Dante’s tongue darted in, running against the top of the roof of Jesse’s mouth. They both released low moans. Jesse inhaled through his nostrils intensely and Dante’s mouth taste a mix of pot and mint. But mostly, _oh god_ , his lips tasted of a sweet french vanilla.

When Jesse pulled back his cheeks were rouged and his lips were wet, he kept his hands placed on Dante’s firm chest.

_His lips had tasted like vanilla._

“How’s that for crazy?” He felt as if he were choking; Dante stole away all his air.

“I think I could use a bit more of your concept of ‘crazy,’” Dante joked breathlessly.  

Jesse giggled at this and lowered to kiss Dante again when he felt his phone buzz. Checking his phone his face blanched as he read the multiple missed calls from his father on his screen. Jesse inspected himself over: his hair disheveled, pants dirty from having his knees rub into the grass and dirt, his lips felt swollen.

If his father saw him…

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Jesse exclaimed, bouncing up off Dante onto his feet. _Stupid_ Jesse thought. Dante could ruin his reputation; some pot smoker spreading rumours about how he ‘hooked up with Jesse Coste at a freshman party.’ His life would be ruined. “I need to go.”

“No, Don’t go- hey,” Dante hopped up and grabbed at Jesse’s arm.

“ _No_ , let go,” and Dante released Jesse’s arm.

“Stop giving a shit about what other people might think,” the air was silent, “stay,” Dante urged.

Jesse didn’t have a proper answer; he had _an_ answer which was to stay, but he couldn’t. Some things a person just cannot do. No matter how badly he wanted to.

He went walking in haste. Feeling his heart plummeting from not saying goodbye. He couldn’t stop himself:

He spun around and ran back at Dante, jumping into him and he threw his arms around Dante’s neck, kissing distressingly. And Dante he held Jesse up off the ground, squeezing him close as he was kissed.

Jesse pulled his head away, Dante’s lips pursuing after but held no victory of encompassing Jesse’s own lips again.

“I don’t do things like this,” Jesse whispered timidly. “Don’t tell anyone about this.”

“I won’t,” Dante promised with lidded eyes.

Jesse placed another tentative kiss on Dante.

“I’d like to see you again,” Dante mumbled against Jesse’s sweet coconut flavoured lips

“We absolutely cannot do that,” Jesse remarked as he untangled himself from Dante’s arms. Once out of them he went up on his toes just a bit to give Dante one more kiss. It got deep fast; Jesse licking over Dante’s bottom lip and entering his mouth again. He could hear Dante groaning, pushing himself into Jesse to intensify it. “No, stop I just said we can’t,” Jesse murmured, followed by a whisper under his breath calling Dante a wicked boy.

Slapping away Dante’s hands Jesse turned away and began heading towards the garden exit. Pulling out his phone to text his father excuses of why he had not been answering, he tried not to think about the beautiful moping boy whose distance was increasing with each step. Jesse was never going to attend another party, he only focused on fencing, and attended a separate school. Their lives could never be interwoven.

Jesse figured for the rest of high school he would never see Dante again.

It only took a year before they spotted each other again.

**Author's Note:**

> This may or may not get a sequel, for now I'll put it as complete. Thanks for reading cuties <3 all my love!!!  
> Find me on twitter: @heirofkingsmeet or Tumblr: meet-me-at-kingsmeet


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